Pope Jim hides out under the salsa bar at El Pollo Loco waiting for his babe, Bertha, the slow cooked pinto girl. Together they consume the leftover beans. Hours later they run around her house with blankets playing Dutch oven deputante.

Pope Jim was incensed, in fact Jims demeanor was described in the court documents as incandescent. The Popes retirement plan was in tatters, his proposed self sufficiency scheme had been destroyed, Months and Months of research and development wasted, and all because of Bob, the Popes nervous ophidiophobic neighbour. A weaker man would have gone out and started a forest fire, but Pope Jim was not weak, angry and maybe a little deranged yes, but no one could, or would, ever dare to accuse him of being weak. After all this is Pope Jim we're talking about, alleged leader of the Eugene chapter of the Crusaders (many are called, but few are choosen) motorcycle club, a pillar of the local community, scout troop leader, miniature steam locomotive enthusiast, published author and winner of the prevent botulism in babies short story competition five years running. The Pope was a man about town, a very very angry man about town, and now that the meddling do gooders from the society for the prevention of cruelty to animals had taken away his assortment of snakes, totaling five thousand give or take an adder or two, Jims snake oil as an alternate fuel experiment was to put it crudely, fucked, and as I said before Jim was not happy. This whole sorry state of affairs had come to a head when Jim had been on the phone with his neighbour the ironically named Bob Plissken discussing an upcoming neighbourhood watch meeting and toying with his trendy rattle, the one he'd surgicaly removed from his pet rattle snake Gary, thinking there was a snake in the room Bob ran screaming from his house directly into the path of an oncoming unicyclist, leading to an unavoidable collision, thankfully Bonny the cyclist was uninjured, but Bob was not so lucky, a broken toe from the wheel of the unicycle, and a number of impact injuries from the three clubs, two chainsaws and the blacksmiths anvil Bonny was juggling at the time of the accident. It was the subsequent investigation into the mishap that led to the discovery of Jim's unlicenced and therefore illegal snake farm and oil refinery. The SPCA slid in and seized Jim's snakes, and the Seven Sisters oil company, after a three day party, dismantled the Popes refinery. After the court case Jim was sentenced to six Months home detension, Pope Jim is using the time to draft his next novel, the working title is Rage, the story of an angry misunderstood genius...due to his aggressive typing style Pope Jim is on his third keyboard....I wish you well your Popeness.

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